


Suite No. 1

by RainbowJedi



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Cellist!Carmilla, Childhood Sweethearts, F/F, Musicians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-01 08:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowJedi/pseuds/RainbowJedi
Summary: Carmilla Karnstein only loves one thing in this world more than the way she feels when her fingers glide across the strings of her cello. That one thing is a feisty little know-it-all named Laura Hollis, who was adamant that Carmilla pushed her off the swing set when they were 8 years old.Because I couldn't get the idea of Cellist!Carmilla out of my head.





	1. It Wasn't Me! I Swear!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to this little fic! This is my first time writing a multi-chapter fic for this fandom. I hope you enjoy it!  
> EDIT: Reuploaded with the help of my new beta, Fly! You can find them on tumblr as flyingfanatic.  
> EDIT 2: Story was renamed from "Why Not?" to "Suite No. 1" because Suite No. 1 by Johann Sebastian Bach is arguably one of the best cello pieces of all time. It's a personal favorite of mine and if you haven't heard the song, go listen to Yo-Yo Ma's version of it. Do it.

_Sixteen Years Ago, Age 8_

The day started out peacefully enough. One month into the school year and the students at Sheridan Elementary School were adjusting well to their new classrooms. There was a slight breeze, but not enough to make the kids don their autumn jackets, which were instantly discarded in the corners of their classrooms the second their parents were out of sight.

One such child was a  little girl who was energetically throwing herself back and forth through the air at the end her swing set. She had barely noticed the other figure on the playground, who was silently engrossed in her book on a nearby bench. Peaceful indeed… until a chubby boy in a too-small T-shirt decided that the girl on the swing didn’t deserve to be there anymore and came charging through, knocking the girl off the swing. This, unfortunately, lead to the girl weeping helplessly in the mulch, her attacker having fled the scene. Seeing the incident, the other young lady snapped out of her own mind and rushed to the aid of the blubbering child.

However, the absent-minded girl quickly realized this was a mistake when her classmate decided she was the culprit.

“But I didn’t do it!” she cried.

“Yes you did!” the other teary-eyed child shouted. “There’s no one else around.”

“No I didn’t!” She took a step closer.

“Yes you did!” Another step.

“No I didn’t!” Closer still.

“Yes you did!” with that, any sadness the swing set victim had been feeling was quickly replaced by anger, and she shoved her supposed attacker to the ground.

 

* * *

 

Thus, how the two girls ended up inside for recess until the end of the week. This unfortunately, meant they were stuck there for another three days.

One of the girls huffed angrily. “You know, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t pushed me off the swing.”

“I swear I didn’t do it! It was Theo!”

“Both of you be quiet!” Mrs. Stickler snapped. “You are third graders, not kindergarteners. Start acting like it. Carmilla, isn’t there something you need to say to Laura?”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!”

Mrs. Stickler just glared at her, and Carmilla forced her facial expression into one of remorse.

“I’m sorry for pushing you off the swing set.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for your apology.”

“Good. Now I’m sure there is some work you could be catching up on, hmm?” Mrs. Stickler directed her attention to Carmilla.

“Yes, Mrs. Stickler.”

A short while later, a folded piece of paper was shoved rather gracelessly into the pocket of Laura’s overalls.

_I promise I didn’t push you off the swing set. But I really am sorry about what happened._

Laura looked up at Carmilla, who was twiddling her thumbs and staring at them sheepishly. She quickly scribbled out a response and shoved it under Carmilla’s elbow.

_It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad anymore._

A small smile appeared on Carmilla’s face. But before she could respond to Laura’s note, another one was handed to her.

_Want to be best friends?_

Laura was smiling at her hopefully, and Carmilla just rolled her eyes before writing out a simple response.

_Sure. Why not?_

Laura and Carmilla grinned at each other. Carmilla opened a fresh page in her notebook. Instead of using an individual sheet, however, she just passed the journal along for Laura to read.

_Yay! But I’m mad that we have to spend the rest of the week in here._

_Me, too. Mrs. Stickler is such a meanie._

_Yeah. Maybe we should call her Mrs. STINKler._

Both girls erupted into a fit of giggles, earning them a harsh glare from their teacher. They quickly silenced their giggling and resumed their conversation.

_Yeah! Mrs. Stinkler!_

Although Laura was confused as to what was taking Carmilla so long, she immediately understood why as soon as she saw the response. This time, neither of them could hold back their laughter as they gazed upon the notebook where a crude image of Mrs. Stickler was drawn with stink lines coming off her, aptly titled: Mrs. Stinkler.


	2. I'm a Homosexual!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which notes are passed, tears are shed, and I live vicariously through Carmilla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from the movie, "But I'm a Cheerleader". If you're a baby gay and haven't seen it go watch it. If you have seen it, go watch it again. It's a great movie. Iconic. Truly.  
> Thanks again to Fly for the beta help!

_Present Day_

 

Let it be known that five o’clock in the morning is not a time humans should be awake. However, world famous cello player Carmilla Karnstein begs to differ. Despite frequent reassurances from Laura that she is used to it, and doesn’t mind waking up to the sound of scales and sonatas, Carmilla was extra cautious in her attempts to not wake her sleeping lover. She moseyed over to the kitchen counter and started a pot of coffee for herself. Her Stradivarius sat idly in the corner of the living room, patiently waiting for Carmilla to pick it up. Beside it lay a sleek black case, virtually flawless, save for a bright blue Tardis sticker displayed proudly in the center. It’s a sight that never ceased to put a smile on Carmilla’s face; a reminder of the adorably geeky woman she now comes home to.

Two hours later, the music came to an abrupt stop as Carmilla felt a pair of warm arms wrap around her shoulders and a kiss be pressed to her temple.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Carmilla murmured reverently, as she did every morning.

Laura simply smiled and placed a lingering kiss on her lips, humming in delight. “Think you can spare a moment to eat breakfast with your wife?”

“Always,” Carmilla said.

Carmilla’s life was one in which routine was vital. Oftentimes, it wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed. However, pausing her rehearsal to eat breakfast with Laura was the exception.

“What do you feel like eating today?” Carmilla asked, setting her cello down by her chair and moving to place her hands on Laura’s hips, toying with the hem of the boxers she was wearing.

“Feel like making cinnamon rolls?” Laura suggested.

“Are you going to eat all the frosting again?” Carmilla asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No promises,” Laura simply said, booping her wife on the nose before skipping off towards the kitchen.

Carmilla just shook her head, smiling fondly at the love of her life.

 

* * *

 

_Fourteen Years Ago, Age 12_

 

Four years down the road, Carmilla and Laura were still as inseparable as two friends can be. At the tender age of twelve, the cost of acne cream and orthodontia put a dent in their parents’ monthly budgets, periods became a thing (an excruciating one at that), and their interest in romance was as fresh and new as their cellphones, which quickly replaced passing notes as their newest form of communication. That’s not to say that they didn’t still pass notes. Cellphones were forbidden during class, so note-passing was going to have to do.

_So Danny huh?_

Laura blushes as she reads the note.

_What about her?_

_She seems pretty into you._

_Yeah! She’s so awesome. She invited me to a rock climbing excursion with her family this weekend! Who’d have guessed an 8_ _th_ _grader – and the star of the track team no less – would be friends with someone like me?_

Carmilla rolls her eyes.

_Friendship? Is that what you think that is?_

_I mean yeah. What else would it be? It’s not like she’s trying to date me. Girls don’t do that with other girls._

Carmilla looks around nervously before replying.

_I think some of them do._

_Like who?_

Carmilla sighs.

_Like me._

That definitely caught Laura’s attention. She shoots a confused glance over her shoulder at Carmilla, who simply mouths, “Later.” Needless to say, whatever the teacher continued to drone on about was lost on her, and the only thing Laura was able to focus on was her friend’s revelation.

The class period ends far too soon for Carmilla, but for Laura it couldn’t have come soon enough. Laura was practically bursting at the seams with questions.

“I know you’re chomping at the bit to get this conversation started, but can it wait until tonight?” Carmilla asks as they approach their lockers.

“But you have a cello lesson tonight! How am I supposed to wait that long?” Laura whines.

“You won’t. Miss Brewster had a family thing, but Mother convinced her to at least stay for an hour. But that means she’s probably going to stay for an extra hour on Sunday.”

“Are you sure I can’t just come watch you practice?” Laura asks.

Carmilla gives her a look that tells her exactly why that should not happen.

“Right. Probably not a good idea,” Laura says sheepishly.

“As eager as I am to have this conversation, unfortunately I have to get to my next class,” Carmilla said.

With that, Carmilla was gone, and Laura was left more confused than ever. However, she would not let that deter her. Her next class starts in T minus three… _Oh crap._ The bell rings, and Laura bolts down the hallway, barely remembering to slam her locker door shut.

 

* * *

 

Laura was a bundle of nervous energy from the second she left school that day up until the moment her dad pulled up to the Karnstein Manor. Even though she has spent countless hours within its walls, Laura still found herself intimidated by its imposing structure. She gulps, steeling her nerves for the inevitable conversation. With one last kiss to her father’s cheek, she grabs her overnight bag from the backseat of the minivan and scampers up to the front door of the house as she had done nearly every Friday night since the beginning of their friendship.

From the living room, Carmilla could hear Laura’s knock even over the sound of Ms. Brewster’s voice nattering on about vibrato techniques that she was already very familiar with. A few seconds later, her brother could be heard conversing with Laura. Unfortunately, her instructor noticed her inattention and slapped Carmilla’s hand harshly with her conductor’s baton.

“Carmilla! Pay attention!” Ms. Brewster snaps.

“Yes. Sorry,” Carmilla mumbles.

“Now, go head and run through that F major scale again, only this time, make sure I can actually hear the vibrato!”

Carmilla sighs and readies herself for Ms. Brewster’s cue to start. Somewhere between G and B flat, Laura strode in and plopped down on the sofa. Momentarily distracted, Carmilla neglects to add vibrato to her next note.

“No, no, no!” Ms. Brewster shouts exasperatedly. She turns to Laura. “Miss Hollis, if the need to see Carmilla is so pressing that you simply cannot wait until I finish my lesson, I implore you to use discretion when entering the room.”

At least Laura had the gall to look sheepish. “Sorry, Ms. Brewster. Won’t happen again.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Ms. Brewster mutters. “From the top, Carmilla.”

Carmilla resumed playing the scale, and like always, Laura was enraptured by her skill. The cello was a weird instrument. It wasn’t a violin, but it wasn’t a bass, either. But when it was being cradled between the legs of someone as talented as Carmilla, Laura didn’t care. There was just something about the way she handled the polished wood that Laura found awe-inspiring.

After a few tense moments, Ms. Brewster sighs. “Well, I suppose my enough of my time has been wasted for the day. Keep practicing your two octave scales, and we will begin studying three octave scales on Sunday afternoon.”

“Thank you, Ms. Brewster,” Carmilla says automatically as she began packing up her cello.

“I will see you Sunday, Carmilla.” Ms. Brewster nods. With that, she was gone, and Carmilla and Laura were left alone. The second the door shut behind Ms. Brewster, it was like a bomb exploded.

“So what do you mean you like girls?” Laura exclaims.

“SSSHHH! Not so loud!” Carmilla says, clapping a hand over her friend’s mouth.

Laura licked the hand covering her mouth and was not as repulsed by the metallic taste that lingered on Carmilla’s hand from the cello strings as she thought she would be. That was a disconcerting thought that she’d analyze later. Naturally, Carmilla retracted her hand and wiped it on Laura’s pants.

“Sorry! But this is weird! You like girls?” Laura asks.

“Can we at least take this to my bedroom?” Carmilla pleads. Seeing the objection that was about to tumble from Laura’s lips, she slapped another hand over her mouth. “I promise I’m not avoiding the conversation, as much as I’d like to. This is still new to me and I’d rather talk about it somewhere prying eyes won’t see.”

That, at least, seems like a good compromise. Carmilla grabs Laura’s overnight bag and carries it with her as they make their way through the house, up the stairs, and into Carmilla’s room.

“Carrying my bag for me? Chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Laura says with a grin as she took a seat on Carmilla’s double bed.

“Chivalry won’t die until I do. And who am I to make a beautiful lady carry her own bag up to my room?” Carmilla says.

Like that, the atmosphere of the room changes. That was blatant flirting, and although Carmilla had flirted with Laura in the past, now it was different. _Now it might be on purpose_.

“Now then, so I like girls,” Carmilla says, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Laura pats the space beside her. Carmilla carefully sits down in the proffered space, and Laura wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, yeah. I don’t think boys do it for me, ya know?” Carmilla asks.

Laura thought she did, but that was a conversation for another time. Right now, it’s all about Carmilla. “So you’re, like, a lesbian, then?”

“Yeah. I guess I am,” Carmilla says. “I am a lesbian.”

“You are,” Laura said with a smile.

“That feels weird to say out loud.”

“But good?”

“Yeah. Really good,” Carmilla says. Timidly, she adds, “So are you upset?”

“What? No! Why would I be upset?” Laura asks, turning to face her friend. “You’re my best friend, Carmilla. I love you no matter what.”

Carmilla’s eyes were glistening and that simply wouldn’t do. Laura hugs Carmilla close, letting her raven-haired friend soak the back of her shirt with her tears. Several minutes pass before Carmilla and Laura break apart. Carmilla’s face was marred by inky tear tracks from her ruined mascara, which Laura attempted to wipe away with her thumbs.

“Thank you,” Carmilla whispers reverently.

“What are friends for?” Laura smiles. “Now go clean up. I think you’ve earned the right to choose the first movie we watch tonight.”

Much to Carmilla’s surprise, Laura didn’t protest when Carmilla ended up choosing the second, then the third movie of the night as well. The two friends fell asleep around one in the morning, the end credits of _But I’m a Cheerleader_ rolling on Carmilla’s laptop screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May the force be with you.  
> -RainbowJedi


	3. L'autunno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Carmilla is broody as ever, Laura is a force to be reckoned with, and Trivia Tuesdays are back on, apparently.  
> Chapter title named after the third concerto in Vivaldi's Four Seasons. It's the song I imagined these guys playing. I played this in orchestra and it was pretty rad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait for the chapter! I've been sick recently.  
> TW: LaFontaine's first name is mentioned in this chapter. But only once.  
> TW: Q-slur, the word "dyke" is used.  
> Thanks again to my beta, flyingfanatic, for editing this but also for listening to my devil's lettuce-induced rants.  
> Much love <3

_Twelve Years Ago, Age 14_

 

“Good job, everyone! Carmilla, Ell, nice harmonization!”

“Thank you Mrs. Orlik,” Ell says primly.

“I don’t need your praise,” Carmilla snaps. “I know I’m good.”

“Sure you do. So you would know that your last F natural was a bit flat?”

“What?! No it--!” Carmilla exclaims. Seeing her instructor’s smug smile, she sighs. “You’re messing with me.”

The rest of the class giggles, prompting Carmilla to glare menacingly at them. The class falls silent, properly scorned. The only person unfazed by the action is Mrs. Orlik, who is still standing proudly at her podium with a grin on her face. The instructor looks at the clock before turning to her students. “We have seven minutes until the bell. You can go ahead and pack up. Ell, Carmilla, may I speak with the both of you for a minute?”

The two girls walk over to Mrs. Orlik; Ell looking sheepish, Carmilla looking bored.

“You both did an excellent job today, but there’s still something missing,” Mrs. Orlik begins. “Think of a duet as a conversation: the violin says something, the cello responds in kind. The cello says something, the violin agrees. The way you two play seems a bit mechanical. There’s no feeling in it.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Ell asks dutifully.

“I suggest you two meet up outside of class and talk. For now, I want you to just get to know each other. Practice your parts separately, and then, when you feel comfortable enough, bring your instruments into the mix.”

Ell nods, while Carmilla gives her a skeptical look. “Mrs. Orlik, you can’t be serious. This will never work.”

“As a heart attack,” Mrs. Orlik says with a grin. “And trust my judgment. Have I ever been wrong?” Carmilla pretends to think it over, to which Mrs. Orlik responds by gently slapping the back of her head. “Zip it, lock it, put it in your pocket. Please do what I have asked. I will know if you don’t,” Mrs. Orlik finishes with a pointed look at Carmilla.

Ell giggles. “Yes, Mrs. Orlik.”

A few tense moments pass before Carmilla sighs in resignation. “Yes, Mrs. Orlik.”

“Good. Glad we’re all in agreement. The practice rooms will be available to you both every day an hour before school and for an hour afterwards. Feel free to use them at your discretion.”

With that, Mrs. Orlik walks away, leaving Carmilla and Ell to their own devices.

“Phew. Glad that old bat is gone,” Ell suddenly says. “It was getting tiring being the prim and proper goody-two shoes.”

“Then why do it?” Carmilla asks.

“Oh you innocent freshman, you,” Ell says. “Don’t you realize that if you pretend you care, teachers will actually like you?”

“But I don’t need them to like me,” Carmilla says defensively. “In fact, I don’t want them to. I just want to get in and get out.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” Ell says. “If they like you, they’re more inclined to give you a better grade. Take it from a senior. It’s the best way to go.”

“Take it from me, I’m not going to do that,” Carmilla retorts. “Now, if you excuse me, I need to pack up my cello.”

Carmilla makes her way over to her seat and begins packing up her stuff. Ell follows, grinning. “You know, we’re going to have to get to know each other. Mrs. Orlik said so.”

“I already know you,” Carmilla snaps, turning to face Ell. “I may have only been here for a couple of months, but I’ve been watching you. I know how you operate.”

“Do you now?” Ell says incredulously.

“I do. You’re a two-faced con artist who only earned her spot as concertmaster by manipulating a sweet old lady into thinking you deserve it. You are an entitled know-it-all who everyone wishes would just shut the hell up already and as loathe as I am to share any sentiment with my peers, I can’t help but agree with them.”

A pause. Then suddenly, Ell bursts out laughing. “Oh my God! That is precious!”

“What the hell?” Carmilla asks.

Ell sticks out her hand. “Ell Krueger. Pleasure to meet you.”

Carmilla tentatively shakes the outstretched hand. “Carmilla Karnstein. Charmed.”

“Stick with me kid, you’re gonna go far.”

 

_Later That Day_

 

“So, Laura, any plans for this weekend?” Danny asks.

“Besides my weekly movie night with Carmilla? Nothing. Why?”

“I was thinking maybe we could hang out?” Danny’s voice is hopeful, if not a bit timid.

“Sure! I’d love to! Can I bring Carm?” Laura asks.

“Well, I was just thinking… Maybe it could be just the two of us?” Danny holds her breath in anticipation of Laura’s response.

Laura stops walking all of a sudden, leaving Danny to wonder if she said something wrong. However, the cause of Laura’s inattention becomes clear as the sounds of scuffling and shouting could be heard a short distance down the crowded corridor. When a loud bang followed by a cry of pain permeates the normal hustle and bustle of the hallway, Laura bolts with Danny trailing after her; shoving people out of their path as they go. When they finally break through the crowd, the sight that greets them makes Laura’s blood boil. A redheaded student is pinned against a locker while two taller boys taunted them.

“I bet I could make all thoughts of the ladies go away,” one of them says, a sick smile on his face.

“For the millionth time, no thanks. I’m not interested,” the redhead says.

“Fuckin’ queer,” the other one mutters.

“HEY!” Laura shouts.

The two boys look over their shoulders to find Laura Hollis and Danny Lawrence glaring menacingly at them. At the sight of Laura Hollis, the two burst out laughing.

“Really? Little Laura Hollis?” one of them says.

“Yeah! And I’m asking you to leave them alone!” Laura shouts.

“Of course Hollis would defend a dyke. Just look at the freak she hangs out with.”

Laura Hollis is not an angry person. Frustrated at times, yes. But overall, she likes to stay positive and only resort to violence and anger under extreme circumstances. An example of said extreme circumstances would be when people made fun of her best friend, especially her best friend’s sexuality. Danny Lawrence, sophomore, six feet and one inch tall, varsity basketball player and track star, straight-A student, is not easily intimidated. However, not even the immovable Danny Lawrence was immune to the fear that came with watching Laura Hollis become angry. They share a look, and Danny takes a few steps back, the students around them blissfully unaware of the storm that was just about to hit.

“What did you just say?” Laura asks, clenching her fists.

“Are you deaf? I said your friend’s a dyke. A filthy, disgusting--”

His sentence is cut off by a swift punch to his solar plexus by none other than little Laura Hollis. He doubles over in pain, inciting his friend to come to his defense. He throws a punch, which Laura successfully dodges. Laura has spent the past ten years and counting taking Krav Maga classes and right now is the moment of truth, the moment she’d been trained for. A few successful jabs and kicks to the groin and abdomen later, both boys lay immobile on the cold linoleum floor of the hallway; suffering from black eyes, broken noses, and bruised pride. Laura Hollis, on the other hand, can only complain of a sore wrist.

As soon as the boys hit the floor, Danny rushes over to Laura and the other redhead. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve had worse,” they say, rubbing the back of their head.

“That’s not a good thing,” Laura says.

“No. But it is what it is,” they say with a shrug. “By the way, I’m LaFontaine.”

“Danny Lawrence.”

“Laura Hollis. So you’re gay?” she asks.

“Nice tact,” LaFontaine says with a snicker. “More or less. But I’m also nonbinary.”

“Nonbinary?” Laura asks.

“Not quite a girl, not quite a boy. Less about the ‘she’ more about the ‘they’ these days, if you get what I mean,” LaFontaine explains.

“Oh! Yeah,” Laura says.

“If you want, I can tell you more about it later,” LaFontaine offers, noticing the confused look on Laura’s face.

“I’d like that.”

“LaFontaine! I heard the commotion and I came as fast as I could. Are you okay?” Another redhead suddenly appears, shouting worriedly at her friend.

“Yeah, I’m fine thanks to Hollis here,” LaF says.

“Oh thank heavens!” the girl exclaims. She turns to Laura. “Lola Perry. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You as well.”

“Wow, who’d have thought? Laura Hollis: Karate Kid,” Carmilla says with a snicker as she approaches the group.

“And where were you? You could have helped, you know?” Laura demands.

“No, I really couldn’t,” Carmilla says with a fond chuckle. “Even Xena didn’t want to get involved.”

“You looked like you had it covered,” Danny says, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, and you are…?” Perry asks.

“Appalled by the sheer amount of gingers in my field of vision,” Carmilla says dryly.

To Laura’s relief, Perry is the only one who seems genuinely offended by the comment. LaFontaine just laughs. “Ooh I like her.”

“Cool. Don’t care.”

“Carmilla!” Laura chides. “Be nice!” She turns to her attention back to the redheads. "This is Carmilla Karnstein. Best friend extraordinaire."

"Charmed."

“A ‘too cool for school’ leather-wearing badass with a heart of gold? You’re a walking stereotype, Karnstein,” LaFontaine retorts, but not unkindly.

Carmilla rolls her eyes but otherwise remains silent. Laura was just about to say something else, but the voice of the school secretary comes over the loudspeaker, interrupting her.

“Would Laura Hollis, Susan LaFontaine, Henry Yates, and Michael Herships please report to the principal’s office? Repeat: would Laura Hollis, Susan LaFontaine, Henry Yates, and Michael Herships please report to the principal’s office? Thank you.”

Four pairs of eyes all looked at Laura, and then down at the two boys lying helplessly on the ground.

“So… Oops.”

 

_Sometime Later_

 

“Laura Eileen Hollis!” the stern voice of one Sherman Hollis permeates the tense air of the principal’s office. “I cannot put into words how angry I am with you!” He turns to the principal. “Thank you, Mrs. Cochrane. I’ll take it from here.”

With that, Laura and her father make their way out of the school. Carmilla, who had been sitting on the front steps of the school, trails behind them as she always does. _At least my dad isn’t too mad to give Carmilla a ride home._ Carmilla stays silent as Laura’s father continues his rant.

“Suspended! _Suspended_! For five days! You’d better believe you’re grounded, young lady. Two weeks. No TV, no computer, no sleepovers.” They reach the car, and Sherman turns to face Carmilla. “Don’t worry, Carmilla. I’ll still give you a ride home. You shouldn’t be punished for something Laura did.”

Carmilla nods. “Thanks, Mr. Hollis.”

“Sherman. It’s been six years, Carmilla. Please call me Sherman,” he says. “Now, back to you, young lady...”

This continues on for several minutes, only pausing when they reach Carmilla’s house, and he allows them a brief hug goodbye. By the time they get home, Laura has had enough.

“It wasn’t my fault, Dad!” she exclaims. “Those two boys hurt an innocent person just because they’re not straight or cisgendered!”

“Cisgendered…?”

“They shoved them up against a locker and called them names. Then when I told them to stop, they started making fun of Carm!”

“That is no excuse for violence!” Sherman shouts. “I signed you up for Krav Maga because I wanted you to be able to defend yourself!”

“You have always told me to stand up for the little guy. You told me I should fight for what I believe in. And that’s what I did today, Dad.”

“I didn’t mean that literally!” Sherman shouts exasperatedly.

“It was what I had to do!”

A moment of tense silence passes before Sherman finally sighs. “Is your friend okay?”

“Yeah. They are. But it could have been worse if--”

“If you hadn’t stepped in.” Sherman sighs again, shaking his head. “I suppose I can’t fault you for that.”

Laura looks hopeful for a moment, until Sherman speaks again. “You’re still grounded, but I suppose I can shorten the sentence by a few days. But this is the first and last time this had better happen, got it?”

“Got it! Thanks, Dad!” Laura exclaims, rushing up to hug him.

“Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too.”

 

_A Few Days Later_

 

_Tap tap tap_

A knock on her window breaks Laura’s concentration on the book she was reading. She looks out to find Carmilla perched precariously on her window sill. She gives Carmilla a look that told her exactly why opening that window would be a bad idea, and Carmilla responds with a pout that is too damn cute to ignore. She opens her window and Carmilla gracelessly climbs through it; her shirt riding up and stirring something unfamiliar but exciting in Laura’s stomach. She can't remember ever having been grounded without getting a sneak visit from Carmilla, but she's definitely never noticed the small dip where her hip meets her stomach before. Never felt that little leap up her spine, never felt her hand moving to… _Get a grip on yourself, Hollis!_ She scolds herself internally.

“What are you doing here?!” Laura whisper-shouts.

“I thought you might be lonely,” Carmilla says with a shrug.

“Yeah, but you’re not supposed to be here!”

“You didn’t have to open the window, you know.”

Laura just huffs, ushering Carmilla further into the room. “Yeah, I kinda did. I missed you, Carm.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carmilla mutters. “In all seriousness though, it was pretty awesome of you to stand up for Lophiiformes.”

“ _LaFontaine._ ”

“Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh,” Carmilla says with a shrug. “I’m just saying, I never would have had the guts to do that.”

“Is Carmilla Karnstein giving me a genuine, heartfelt compliment?” Laura asks in mock surprise.

“Don’t get used to it, creampuff.”

They both know it’s an empty statement. Meanwhile, Sherman Hollis, who had been standing outside Laura’s door with every intention of yelling at Carmilla to get out, smiles fondly at his girls.

 

* * *

  


_Present Day_

 

“Carmilla! Carmilla Karnstein!” A lanky young journalist with the ghost of a mustache pushes his way to the front of the crowd of paparazzi waiting for Carmilla outside the concert hall. “How was it working with Alan Gilbert?”

“ _Karnstein-Hollis_ ,” Carmilla snaps. “And he’s alright, if not a bit anal retentive.”

“Ms. Karnstein! Ms. Karnstein! What brand of cleaner do you use for your cello?”

“Jesus, do you people need to know _everything_?”

“Ms. Karnstein! Ms. Karnstein!”

“If you’ll excuse us, it is late, and Mrs. Karnstein-Hollis is exhausted and would like to return to her hotel room in peace.”

“Thank you, Christoph,” Carmilla says primly as they make their way to the limousine waiting outside the concert hall.

“Pleasure to be of service, ma’am,” he says, nodding.

Believe it or not, even classical musicians need protection. They are celebrities in their own right and Carmilla Karnstein is perhaps the biggest one of all. A part-time bodyguard was a necessary addition after a fan nearly broke Carmilla’s cello in his haste to get an autograph from her.

Finally reaching the vehicle, Carmilla hoists her cello into the trunk and then climbs into the backseat. On multiple occasions, various bodyguards had tried to assist her, and it did not end well. Only Carmilla herself could touch her cello. Anyone who disobeyed that rule was subject to her wrath. There was a reason Christoph was the fourth in a line of bodyguards. He was the only one to respect the rule, and as such, was allowed to keep his job and his pride intact.

Once safely within the confines of the limo, Carmilla pulls out her phone. She has two texts from Laura, one from each of her siblings, and one from her manager, Aaron. It’s no question whose text message she reads first.

_Laura (6:32 PM): Good luck tonight! I love you!_

_Laura (6:33 PM): Skype me when you get done?_

_Aaron (6:44 PM): I'm not happy with the situation, but what use is there in arguing with you? Just make sure you follow through on your end of the deal. Good luck tonight._

 

_Mattie (6:02 PM): Break a leg tonight, little monster. Sorry I couldn't make it. Let me know when the next one is._

_William (6:17 PM): Don't suck._

Carmilla rolls her eyes before sending a basic "thank you" to her brother, and responding to the rest of her texts.

_Carmilla (10:11 PM): My tour dates are available online, Mattie._

_Carmilla: (10:11 PM): Loud and clear, Warden. My flight is still on schedule, right?_

_Aaron (10:12 PM): It took some finagling. You're gonna have to fly coach._

_Carmilla (10:13 PM): No prob. Thanks again._

With that taken care of, Carmilla replies to Laura's texts.

_Carmilla (10:17 PM): Concert’s over. On my way back to the hotel now. Skype you when I get there._

Laura responds instantly.

_Laura (10:17 PM): And??_

_Carmilla (10:18 PM): You know._

_Laura (10:19 PM): Not sure I do._

Carmilla sighs.

_Carmilla (10:21 PM): I love you._

_Laura (10:22 PM): I love you, too baby!_

Carmilla smiles and then puts her phone in her jacket pocket as the limo pulls up to the luxury hotel that Carmilla had called home for the past few days. Her manager had gotten her the penthouse suite on the top floor; joining the long list of A-List celebrities who had occupied the room previously. The room had an open feel to it; living room with a sleek black couch sat in front of a TV the size of which would make Laura drool, should she ever get the chance to see it, a large bathroom with jacuzzi tub and Italian shower off to the left, and a master bedroom to the right complete with king-sized bed with more pillows than one person could possibly need. Although the room was nice, there were only two things that mattered to Carmilla: good acoustics, sound-proof walls, and a high-speed internet connection. After stripping down to her underwear and throwing on an oversized T-shirt, she makes her way over to her laptop.

She pulls up Skype and instantly gets a call from Laura.

“Were you waiting by your laptop for me?” Carmilla asks with a grin.

“Well hello to you, too. And you said you’d Skype me, so yeah. Aren’t I allowed to miss my wife?” Laura asks.

“I don’t know. Seems a bit desperate to me…”

“Oh you hush. How did the concert go?”

“Alan Gilbert is as pretentious as pretentious can be, but what’s new?” Carmilla says.

“Kinda like the pot calling the kettle black, there, isn’t it?” Laura says with a laugh.

“But that guy was way more pretentious than me,” Carmilla grumbles petulantly.

“Classical music is a pretentious genre as a whole. It has to be, given its audience,” Laura says.

“Whatever. By the way, how is LA?”

“Hot. Dry. Gross. But at least I got a good tan going,” Laura says.

“I can see that. Are you tan anywhere else besides your face?” Carmilla asks, a lascivious grin on her face.

“I mean, I tanned in my bikini so…”

“Oh God.”

Laura giggles. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Carm. It’s a wonder I’ve even found time to do that. This article has been a pain to write.”

“Oh?” Carmilla asks.

“Yeah. I had planned on getting it all done while I was in LA so I could have some free time at home, but I guess that’s not gonna happen. But I did get most of it done! I’m just working on some last minute revisions before I send it to my editor,” Laura explains.

“Which band is it about again?”

“The Vamps. We’ve been over this, Carm,” Laura says sternly.

“Sorry, sorry. Can’t you review better musicians than that? Like say, me?” Carmilla asks with a Cheshire grin.

“I’ve written two articles about you in the past year alone. I don’t want them to think I’m biased,” Laura says.

“Cupcake, you’re married to the hottest name in the world of classical music. Of course you’re biased.”

“Well yeah, but I don’t want my bosses to know that.”

“I think they already do, sweetheart.”

Laura pouts, prompting a snicker from Carmilla. Laura rolls her eyes before continuing.

“Anyway, you’re annoying and I miss you,” Laura says, putting a hand on Carmilla’s face through the monitor.

“Whatever you say, Creampuff,” Carmilla says. She returns the gesture. “And I miss you, too.”

“When will you be home again?” Laura asks.

“Just a couple more days. When does your flight get in tomorrow?”

“3:30. Why?”

“No reason. I think I’m gonna turn in. It’s late over here,” Carmilla says.

“Okay. Goodnight Carm. I love you,” Laura tells her.

“I love you, too. Sweet dreams, Cupcake.”

With that, Carmilla ends the call. She yawns, but knows she cannot go to bed quite yet. Little did Laura know, Carmilla had arranged to skip the scheduled interviews that would have kept her those extra two days so she can surprise Laura. The only stipulation was that she had to do a couple of meet-and-greets when she got home to her native Chicago. They were not her favorite thing in the world, but she would do it for Laura if she had to. She begins packing up her things, which were scattered all throughout the suite in preparation for the next day.

Carmilla’s flight touches down in Chicago at 1:15 pm. After weighing the pros and cons of going home for a few hours before Laura is scheduled to arrive, she ends up deciding to hide out at an airport cafe.

_LaFonbrain (1:28 PM): When will you be home again?_

_Carmilla (1:30 PM): I’m home now. I decided to come back early and surprise Laura._

_LaFonbrain (1:31 PM): Dude! She is totally gonna flip! How did you manage that?_

_Carmilla (1:31 PM): I agreed to do a few meet-and-greets._

_LaFonbrain (1:32 PM): Gross. Why would anyone want an autograph from you?_

_Carmilla (1:33 PM): Because I have three albums that have gone platinum and made it into AfterEllen’s Top 10 hottest queer musicians two years in a row?_

_LaFonbrain (1:35 PM): Rub it in, Elvira. So Laura has no idea that you’re coming?_

_Carmilla (1:36 PM): Not a clue._

_LaFonbrain (1:40 PM): By the way, since you’re coming home early, does this mean you’re coming to Trivia Tuesday? Perry wants to know._

_Carmilla (1:40 PM): If I must._

_LaFonbrain (1:41 PM): So that’s a yes?_

_Carmilla (1:41 PM): I guess._

_LaFonbrain (1:42 PM): Woohoo!_

When the time draws near, she assembles her luggage and makes her way back to the baggage claim to wait for Laura. Sure enough, at a quarter to four, Carmilla spots Laura sluggishly making her way down the escalator. However, upon spotting Carmilla, a grin breaks out onto her face and she is suddenly full of energy. Laura nearly tackles Carmilla to the ground with the force of her hug, although Carmilla can’t say she blames her. She breathes in the scent of Laura’s strawberry shampoo before pulling back and bringing Laura in for a passionate kiss. Laura emits a surprised squeak that quickly turns into a moan when Carmilla gently nips at her bottom lip. Too quickly, Carmilla ends the kiss and looks adoringly at her wife.

“So you’re home early,” Laura says.

Carmilla laughs. “Yeah. I guess I am, Cupcake.”

Laura pulls her in for another long, slow kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alan Gilbert: Musical director of the New York Philharmonic. Uncertain whether or not he's anal retentive.  
> Christoph: Named after the musical director of the National Symphony Orchestra (the American one), Christoph Eschenbach.
> 
> May the force be with you.  
> -RainbowJedi

**Author's Note:**

> May the force be with you.  
> -RainbowJedi


End file.
